Unsafe Experiment
by E. Hutchinson
Summary: It was always clear that Sherlocks lack of safety precautions while conducting his experiments were eventually going to get someone hurt. John/Lock but nothing extreme
1. Life at 221B

John collapsed into his armchair with an audible sigh it had been a long day at the clinic. An endless parade of small wailing children with colds and worried geriatrics convinced that they had the latest outbreak in bird flu that they heard about the other evening on the news. Gently rubbing his fingers over his temple he attempted to work away some of the stress of the day as he gathered his strength in order to get up and go fix himself I nice cup of tea.

As the kettle began to whistle the sound of the water boiling already beginning to relax him, he heard the clatter of his roommate returning to the flat.

"Sherlock I was just making a cup of tea would you like one?" John yelled out, already grabbing a second mug from the cabinet doing his habitual inspection for any dangerous residue left over from one of Sherlock's experiments before using a dish.

"John you must see what I was able to get from Molly today!" Was his roommates reply with the excited tone of a young boy showing off a new toy.

"What's that then?" John asked. He was then grateful for his medical and military training because it was only the combination of the two that kept him from spilling two boiling hot mugs of tea on himself when he rounded the corner into the living room only to confront his roommate proudly brandishing a container with a severed head. The face was swollen and covered with red splotches and patches of shingles indicated adult chicken pox. The most disturbing part was the small patch of necrotizing fasciitis, which had begun on the left cheek already exposing a portion of the muscle and tendons below. Every side of the container was marked with biohazard symbols and labels and John was at least happy to see that the required safety seals where still in place.

"What the hell Sherlock! You do not have the proper safety equipment to be doing any kind of research on a flesh eating bacteria in the house!" John shouted. He generally was not too off put by his roommates experiments as long as he kept them a reasonable distance away from anything edible and clearly labeled containers but this was crossing a line. He was not a pathologist but he remembered enough from his medical school rotations to know that the labeling on that container was indicative of a viral or bacterial infection that had a high probability of becoming airborne.

"Don't be daft John I do not plan to break any of the seals on the container I simply plan on observing and logging the progress of the necrosis. I have only missed the first couple of hours post mortem. I could use my observations in later investigations." Sherlock explained.

"I don't understand why you couldn't do your observations at the labs at Barth," John lamented, "But I suppose that is as close to reasonable as I can expect from you Sherlock, but you need to keep that in your room where Mrs. Hudson will not see it and you are definitely not keeping that skull." John replied smirking at the last part and offering Sherlock his mug of tea.

"No, no I have no need for a replacement skull that is what you are here for" Sherlock replied distractedly waving a hand in dismissal of the tea and moving toward his room still staring into the container like an excited school boy.

John shook his head as the genius disappeared into his room unsure if the man had intentionally made a joke or legitimately saw him simply as a replacement to his old skull, which Mrs. Hudson had hidden away. Letting it go for the moment he placed Sherlock's tea down on the end table by the sofa and proceeded to get comfortable with his own mug in his chair. Grabbing his laptop to check the latest news and his email. It was a couple of hours before his eccentric roommate re-emerged from his room.

"John, why did you make me a cold mug of tea?" Sherlock asked with some confusion picking up the offending mug.

"What…Sherlock I made that for you when you got in hours ago. Just stick it in the microwave." John replied amazed at how oblivious his highly observant friend could be to the passing of time.

"I cant I currently have an experiment in the microwave." Sherlock replied, gracefully collapsing in his chair.

"SHERLOCK! You agreed not to do experiments in the areas I need to prepare food. You are going to end up getting one or the both of us ill one of these days." John shouted his face turning red.

Sherlock dismissed his roommates concerns with a hand wave. "John I will not allow you to poison yourself and I am aware of the location of all my ongoing experiments. You worry far too much. "

"Whatever its your funeral" John mumbled angrily under his breath. Knowing it was a loosing battle to continue with Sherlock at the moment. He knew by now that nothing would dislodge his friends strange belief that a laboratory and a kitchen could co-exist without issue.


	2. Chemistry 101

Sherlock was absolutely bored he hadn't had a proper case in exactly twelve days 7 hours and 34 minutes. _See John I can easily mark the passing of time if I choose to waste brain power on such an effort when it is not necessary for a case. _Sherlock thought bitterly to himself. He had spent the better part of the morning finishing his preparations of Sulfur Trioxide. He had built an apparatus earlier that week which would allow him to create a controlled test in order to determine the rate of damage that acid rain would cause to various forms of commonly used stones in masonry and sculpting.

As he finished the last process in the experiment he heard Mrs. Hudson shout his name from down stairs. Ignoring the landlady he sealed his container of SO3 and turned off the Bunsen burner. He held the flask up to light admiring the gas as it swirled around in the beaker.

"Yoo-hoo, Sherlock dear did you not hear me?" Mrs. Hudson said as she knocked on the open door. "You got a package dear." She said holding up the box in explanation of her presence.

"Ah excellent its here" Sherlock stated excitedly placing the beaker down on the mantle as he moved to yank the package out of Mrs. Hudsons hand.

"Well you could at least say thank you deary." Mrs Hudson said indignantly "I'm no spring chicken you know. You shouldn't be making me walk up all those stairs just to give you your mail and the man down stairs still wants a signature from you."

"Yes, yes" Sherlock responded absentmindedly as he happily opened the package, pulling out a mason jar with a silver liquid surrounded in a yellowish oil from the bubble wrap and packing peanuts in the box.

"Sherlock" Mrs. Hudson tried again as the genius was currently staring at the contents of the jar like a child in a candy shop.

"What is it Mrs. Hudson" Sherlock exclaimed exasperatedly placing the jar back in the box.

"Well there is no need to be rude, but the man down stairs is still waiting on your signature." She replied indignantly.

When Sherlock returned back upstairs from signing for the box he went straight back to the jar. Carrying it to the sink he figured he could do one or two small test of the exciting reaction. He place the jar down on the side of the sink as he began to search through the drawers trying to remember where he put his glass pipette again.

As he triumphantly pulled the pipette from the bread box his cell phone began to ring, it was his ringtone for Lestrade. Throwing the instrument back in the bread box he excitedly pulled out his cell phone.

"What is the address," he shouted at Lestrade. It had been so long since his last case he almost didn't care if it was a boring one.  
"Well hello to you as well," Lestrade replied chuckling and then proceeded to give the excitable genius the details of the double homicide and what address to meet him at. Within a few minutes of finishing the call with Lestrade, Sherlock had dressed gathered his coat and was out the door of 221B Baker street. As he sat in the back of the taxi leg bouncing up in down in anticipation he sent a text to John.

**Double homicide witnesses in each case but no bodies, the game is on! -SH**

John chuckled to himself at work as he read the text from his roommate. He felt a little disappointed that there was no reason for him to meet up with Sherlock but without a body he couldn't really help him yet. However, he did have a bit of paperwork to catch up on so it was probably in his best interest that he didn't go anyhow.

After another three hours catching up on paperwork John was ready to call it a day. He checked his phone for updates from Sherlock as he shut the lights off in his office. There weren't any, knowing his friend he had found a lead at the crime scene and had left on his own to hunt it down. He wished the man would at least let him know when he ran off after a lead. John was beginning to appreciate Mycroft's comment that he 'Worried constantly' about his younger brother. As he walked home John sent a quick text checking up on him.

**How is the case going should I meet you somewhere? –JW**

Sherlock's phone chirped in his pocket but as he was currently pretending to be a highly distraught friend of one of the victims he ignored the text.

John checked his phone again hardly expecting a response from his friend having dealt with him for so long. Realizing he probably wasn't going to find out any more about the case until Sherlock returned home and knowing he might be busy for an undetermined amount of time in the future he figured he should go ahead and stop by Tesco's on his way home.

John placed the large bags of groceries on the living room floor as he removed his coat placing it on the back of his chair and looking over the box lying there with some curiosity. The address appeared to be Russian in origin and the only contents listed were one jar sodium-potassium alloy (NaK), liquid form. There were instructions on all sides of the box stating Hazardous Chemical Handle with Care. John tried to remember what sodium-potassium would do but it had been a long time since his undergraduate chemistry course and he really didn't remember at the moment. He figured he would ask Sherlock when he got home later. He picked up the groceries off the floor and moved towards the kitchen. John gave an audible sigh as he saw all of the beakers and tubes and flasks on the kitchen table. Glancing at the notes that Sherlock had written on the table he saw that the end result of what ever process he was preforming was Sulfur Trioxide. Great, that one he remembered was a major precursor to sulfuric acid. He was beginning to wonder if it might be a good idea to take a refresher course in chemistry just for his own general safety living with Sherlock. Hoisting the bags of groceries up high and facing his back to the table to ensure he didn't spill any of the various unlabeled beakers and glasses of liquid any one of which apparently could contain a very strong acid john moved over to the counter by the fridge as he was maneuvering the bags he heard the distinct noise of a glass being knocked over and then a split second later the sound of a glass breaking. With a long suffering sigh he put down the groceries and took a look at what had spilled.

He thanked what little luck he had for the fact that the jar had fallen into the sink and so there was no big mess to clean up. There was some kind of greyish blob covered in yellow liquid mixed among the glass in the sink. John moved the faucet over the mess not wanting to risk using a paper towel to clean up the mess. Although he was pretty sure sulfuric acid was a brownish liquid.

A split second after John turned on the water there was a massive explosion. Startled and thrown off balance John fell backwards cracking his head on the corner of the kitchen table hitting the ground hard afterwards his right elbow absorbing most of the fall. His vision black out for a second and when it came back he saw sparks and smaller explosions erupting from the sink smaller fires were catching all over the sink. Groggily Johns last thought before he passed out was _O yea potassium reacts violently with water, yea I need to refresh my basic chemistry…_


	3. Fire!

"What is it Mrs. Hudson!" Sherlock half shouted finally answering his phone after the third time his landlady had called his cell.

"SHERLOCK! Oh my god I don't know what to do I heard an explosion upstairs and I think I smell a fire. I already called the fire department but I was pretty sure I heard John come home but he hasn't come down stairs yet. Sherlock I'm not strong enough to try and go in there and find him. Where are you Sherlock!" The poor woman practically said in one breath breaking down into tears when she finished.

"Mrs. Hudson I'm on my way." Sherlock replied immediately, then remembering the large beaker of SO3 he had created and the container of NaK he had just received that day he added, "Inform the fire department that it may be a chemical fire. Do not allow them to use water on the flat Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock emphasized the last part ensuring that she understood him through her panic. Sherlock thanked his luck that he was already so close to the house.

After slamming the door shut in the taxi he had hailed Sherlock practically shouted at the man "221B Baker street if you get me there in under eight minutes I will double your pay."

"Yes Sir," The man replied with a smile proceeding to break most traffic laws along the way.

Sherlock was already ignoring him pulling out his cell phone to text Mycroft.

**Explosion at the flat John may be injured insure that he will have the best care possible when he arrives at hospital, possible chemical burns – SH**

Sherlock proceeded to glare at his cell phone for the entire minute it took for his brother to respond.

**I do have other obligations other than cleaning up your messes dear brother – MH**

**MYCROFT! – SH**

Sherlock angrily jammed his response into the keypad of his offending cellphone.

**Do not get emotional Sherlock, I will ensure that the appropriate personnel are awaiting his arrival at St Bartholomew's Hospital. -MH**

After ensuring that his brother would help his friend Sherlock attempted to call John on his cell phone but got no reply. Angrily Sherlock shut his phone He fidgeted anxiously in the back of the cab as it continued to careen through London speeding toward his possibly injured flat mate and only friend.

The vehicle hardly came to a complete stop before Sherlock was jumping out the door throwing and handful of cash at the driver. Mrs. Hudson was standing anxiously at the foot of the stairs and Sherlock could hear the fire department rounding the corner behind him.

"Has he come down stairs yet!" Sherlock shouted at Mrs Hudson as he ran up to her.

"No not yet, Sherlock its been almost ten minutes." She sobbed.

"I will get him Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock shouted over his shoulder as he sprinted up the stairs towards his and Johns apartment.

As Sherlock burst through the front door covering his mouth with his scarf unsure of what kind of fire he would find. He was happy to see that the fire was not that large but he also noticed his friends jacket laying across the back of his chair.

"JOHN!" He bellowed as he moved towards the kitchen where the smoke seemed to be coming from. When he saw the undamaged beaker of SO3 still siting on the mantle he let out an audible sigh of relief there were no toxic gases, but why was John not replying then? As he rounded the corner to the kitchen he felt as though his insides were placed in a vice. Beneath the kitchen table John was clearly unconscious with a large pool of blood ballooning out from his head. The table above him was on fire as well as some of the cabinets and the takeout menus attached to the fridge. After taking in the scene Sherlock had a pretty good understanding of what had occurred. He moved quickly to grab John and move him out from underneath the burning kitchen table. Once he had John out into the living room he began to search for the head wound, which was to blame for the large amount of blood on the floor. He found a large triangle shaped gash on the back of the skull. Quickly he removed his scarf pressing it to the injury to reduce the bleeding. Sherlock could not keep his mind from listing all the possible fatal complications that could result from head trauma. He could hear the firefighters finally barreling up the stairs.

"The fire isn't that large are the EMTs here yet?" Sherlock shouted at the men as he entered the flat.

"I'm right here," the EMT shouted pushing past the two firemen once he saw the living room was clear his partner following shortly after with the stretcher.

"We heard this was a chemical fire do you know what chemical?" One of the firemen asked moving to take a look at the kitchen but hesitating to take action until he knew what chemical he was dealing with.

"It was started with potassium and water. The containers on the table mostly contain metal bisulfate's and acids." Sherlock quickly explained as he moved out of the way so that the two paramedics could begin to take care of John.

With a nod the fireman grabbed one of the tanks they had brought up with them and began to spray dense foam on the fire in the kitchen. It only took a short amount of time before all of the fires were out. Sherlock hardly noticed though, his attention was completely focused on the actions of the two EMTs as one ensured that John was still breathing then checked for additional injuries as the other applied a bandage to Johns head wound.

"Alright he's stable lets get him down to the truck" The medic who had been checking John over stated. "Are you riding with him to hospital?" He then asked Sherlock as he hoisted his side of the stretcher.

"Yes." Sherlock replied without thinking following the two men out of the flat.

**Umm not sure if there is interest for this to continue but I will try to have the next couple of chapters up within a couple of days. Please let me know what you think. It was so much less stressful as a lurker on this site lol ^_^**


	4. Orange Blanket

"Oh John Dear" Mrs. Hudson cried bringing her hands up to cover up her mouth, "take care of him Sherlock." She said reaching out to touch Sherlock in support, as he followed the stretcher out the front door. Sherlock simply nodded his head sharply in acknowledgement.

As the two medics loaded John onto the truck he began to convulse violently. Sherlock felt as though his heart was stopping and time was slowing down. John Watson was never suppose to be the one injured he was his Doctor. Sherlock felt guilt more so than he had ever felt the emotion in his life before. His only friend the person he could always count on to take care of him was severely injured and it was his fault. His logical side attempted to protect him and argued that as an individual educated in the sciences John should have known better than to wash an unknown substance down the sink with water. However his newly discovered emotional side quickly countered that it wouldn't have even been an issue if Sherlock had just listened to John and kept his hazardous chemicals and experiments well away from the areas that they both used.

"sir….SIR!" Sherlock heard a man speaking loudly near his face and felt someone grab his shoulders. He realized that he had frozen at the back of the ambulance. One of the medics was trying to get him to move into the vehicle while the other immobilized John on the stretcher for the journey and checked the dilation of Johns pupils again.

"Hey Scott! We have uneven dilation!" The medic on the truck shouted "Either get him in here or we will have to leave him behind" The other medic shouted as he jumped out the back of the vehicle and headed around to the drivers seat.

"Sir, are you coming?" The second medic asked a look of sympathy in his eyes as he gave Sherlock a slight pull towards the truck.

Thankfully, Sherlock thought, his feet responded to the small amount of donated inertia and began to move him towards the vehicle. Climbing in behind the medic and taking a seat across from John he was glad to see that his friend had at least stopped convulsing.

The vehicle began to speed away the instant the EMT shut the rear doors of the vehicle.

The man began to quickly move around John checking the monitors that were already connected and prepping the man so that he would be able to receive intravenous fluids and blood once he arrived at hospital. Once this was complete the medic looked towards Sherlock with that same sympathetic look again.

"Sir, Do you know this man well enough to know if he has any previous head trauma or any dangerous medical allergies/conditions we should be aware of immediately?" The man asked quickly but with the clear practice of someone used to dealing with distraught friends and family members. Sherlock began to slowly shake his head 'no', then realizing that wasn't a sufficient answer began to stutter, "n..no…he doesn't have any allergies. I…I know he was injured during his time in the military but I don't believe… I don't think there was any head trauma." Sherlock was startled to hear the lack of certainty in his own voice. He knew he cared a great deal about John but he had never imagined that the man had this level of an affect on his ability to function. He began to wonder at what point he had become so dependent on the stability that the Doctors presence brought him.

The next few moments were filled with relative silence other than the beeping of the monitors attached to John and the flow of oxygen from his mask. The EMT moved efficiently around John monitoring his reactions and vitals. When John began to reflexively grab at the wires and lines attached to him the EMT moved to hold his wrists down. Glancing at Sherlock who was staring straight ahead looking lost the EMT cleared his throat. "Sir could I get your help in keeping your friend still." He asked kindly gesturing to where he was applying gentle pressure to John's wrists. Sherlock hesitantly moved closer to John and clasped on to his wrists. He felt slightly reassured as he felt the steady heart beat of Johns pulse under his hands. 'John was still alive' he held onto that fact like a lifeline. The EMT proceeded to pretend to look around in a box nearby to justify having Sherlock help secure John.

The remainder of the ride was relatively uneventful. John still had not opened his eyes but he was responding to physical stimuli and every now and then he would moan in pain. When they arrived at St. Barth's everything took off at a world wind pace around Sherlock the medics were wheeling John out the back of the truck shouting explanations to the ER doctors waiting by the door as they moved. Sherlock caught snippets of conversation but none of it registered to him.

"Glasgow scale of 7…"

"Single incident of convulsions…"

"Possible intracranial pressure…"

"Significant blood loss upon arrival…"

Their voices faded away as they moved quickly through a set of double doors. A nurse stopped Sherlock as he attempted to follow them.

"I'm sorry sir but he is being taken to surgery you will need to wait out in the waiting room." She said gently.

"No I need to make sure he is alright!" Sherlock half shouted at the woman. "You don't understand this is my fault." He nearly sobbed or as close to sobbing as Sherlock Holmes could come.

The woman gave him a gentle smile and placed a hand on his shoulder gently steering him towards the waiting room.

Another nurse came up to him with a clipboard and in a voice one would use with a small child explained. "Sir right now the best thing you can do is to let the Doctors have their space so that they can help your friend as quickly as possible. If you want to help you can fill out his medical history so that the Doctors have the most accurate information possible to work from." She smiled sweetly pushing the clipboard in front of him with the questionnaire.

Sherlock yanked the clipboard out of her hands. "I'm well aware of the purpose of a medical questionnaire," he shot back with venom attempting to regain some level of normalcy in this traumatic situation.

He felt a firm hand grasp onto his shoulder.

"Brother of mine do try to behave yourself. I told you I would ensure that John received the absolute best care upon his arrival and this woman is simply trying to do her job." He heard the steady cool voice of his older brother over his shoulder.

"Come I've arranged a private room for John which he will be brought to as soon as he is out of Surgery you can wait there." His brother stated and then with an assessing glance at his brother he added, "and perhaps wash up."

Sherlock became aware of the fact that his hands and pants were covered with Johns blood and at some point he had regained his scarf and was grasping it tightly in his hands. The fabric was already beginning to become rigid with the drying blood. Sherlock's eyes widened at the sight and simply stared at the offending object. In all his years as a consulting detective he had seen numerous gruesome crime scenes and none of them had ever really affected him but this was different. The realization that he was covered in John Watson's blood threw the tall genius into shock and one of the most brilliant minds on the planet simply shutdown.

The world around Sherlock began to fade into a haze as his mind retreated within itself. He felt someone gently pry the scarf from his grasp. Then slowly guide him down the hallways of the hospital. He didn't really see where he was going he smelled the disinfectant smell of the hospital and heard brief moments of the background noise of the hospital around him. Sherlock was practically in a walking comatose state of shock.

Had Sherlock been aware of anything happening around him he would have seen the brief micro-expression of concern cross his brother's features as he pulled the scarf from his hand instructing his secretary to ensure that the item was cleaned thoroughly. He then calmly guided his brother by the shoulders to the private room he had mentioned. Mycroft helped Sherlock remove his trench coat and then guided his brother to the sink in the small bathroom. Tenderly he washed the blood off of his brother's hands. Another brief micro expression of sadness crossing his face as he watched the pink water run down the sink; knowing his brother would blame himself for this accident. Mycroft knew by looking into his brother's eyes that the younger man had retreated into the safety of his mind palace in order to deal with the shock. Once his brothers hands were cleaned of blood Mycroft sat him down on the comfortable couch he had provided for the room knowing his brother would probably not leave John Watson's side once he was out of surgery. Safe in the knowledge that his brother was unaware of his surroundings and they were alone in the room Mycroft Holmes gave his little brother a soft smile and a brotherly pat to the head.

"Rest Sherl's" he whispered, "I'll take care of everything." And with that the calm cool collected face of the British Government returned and the man swept silently from he room clipboard in hand with the forms on John's medical history.

**so still trying to figure out how to properly do these authors notes but I am not sure if I should leave this as a friends fic or turn it into a pre-slash let me know which you think is the better option. Also I like to believe as cool and unemotional as Mycroft acts he really does care deeply for his little brother. Hope you all like how this is going I haven't written this much since I was little I forgot how much I use to enjoy it. **


	5. Emergency Contact

As Sherlock sank into his mind palace he found himself watching the memories of his time living and working with John Watson stream across his consciousness. He constructed a home theater around himself and the images continued to play on the newly imagined big screen in front of him. However, as he began to get comfortable the images turned from random images to images of all the times that John almost died. Sherlock felt trapped in his seat he felt his heart rate and breathing began to increase, his hands began to sweat profusely. He tried to wipe them on his trousers but it didn't feel like sweat. When he looked down he saw that his hands were soaked in blood and he had left red smears on his legs when he had attempted to wipe them off. The more he tried to clean the blood the more it seemed to seep from his skin itself. He looked down at his feet when he felt moisture working its way into his socks. He saw a crimson liquid rising up from the ground. It was one of the few times in Sherlock's life when his mind palace had turned against him. He was no longer in a home theater he was in a dark empty room that was slowly filling with blood and there appeared to be no exits. _O god he was going to drown in John's blood, he had to get out he had to leave_. He began to move around the room frantically in search of an exit. The blood was up to his waste now and the sharp metal tang of its smell and the way it clung to his body was beginning to make him nauseous.

"…Sherl's…" He thought he heard his older brothers voice drift towards him as if on the wind. He whipped his head around towards the direction the voice had came from and found a door. Ripping the door open Sherlock sprinted from the room. He felt completely out of control of the images confronting him in his own mind palace. He could still feel his shoes squishing beneath him still soaked with blood and he dared not look down at his hands again. He attempted to bring to focus doors to rooms like he normally did to move through his mind palace but it wouldn't work. He searched for a room he knew was devoid of emotions, he focused on his current experiments room but could not see it in the hallway. The hallway morphed around him into an alleyway. He thought about his rooms on cigar ash and bullet fragmentation patterns but they would not appear either. _I need to get away he thought I need….I need somewhere safe._ He nearly screamed internally. He felt as though if he slowed his pace the blood would over take him in a wave and drown him. Then like a lightning bolt it hit him, _HOME!_ Just as quickly his surrounds turned into a street he turned a corner and found himself on Baker Street. He sprinted for the entrance to 221B. Sherlock burst through the mental door sprinting up the stairs and into his flat, their flat his and John's. Right in front of him sitting in his arm chair as though nothing was wrong was John Watson reading the evening paper. _JOHN! _Sherlock mentally cried out collapsing at his friends feet. _I am so sorry, it is all my fault. I should have…I should have listened. Had I just labeled my things…or kept my experiments out of the kitchen…you…you wouldn't be hurt. I am so sorry. _He half sobbed into John's leg showing emotions that he could only show within the safest confines of his own mind palace. _I'm so sorry John. _He repeated over and over again.

"Sherlock…" He heard his own mental projection of John's whisper above him and felt a hand gently on card through his hair. Sherlock stopped his chant hesitating for a moment and then slowly lifting his head to make eye contact with his friend. John gave him that beaming smile of his and said echoing his words from early in their friendship. "It's fine Sherlock, It's all fine."

With a gasp Sherlock's eyes burst open. He was sitting on a couch in a hospital room his coat was draped over the armrest and his hands were thankfully devoid of any blood. _And Mycroft says that I'm too sentimental. _Sherlock thought after deducing what had occurred while he was in his mind palace. Glancing at his watch he realized that it had been about half an hour since John was carried off to the operating theater. Pulling out his phone Sherlock quickly typed out a text.

**Where is the operating room, I want to know as soon as he is out of surgery. –SH**

After a brief pause the phone vibrated with a response.

**There is an operating theater if you wish to watch the remainder of the procedure. Tell the man outside the door he will show you where to go. –MH**

Sherlock shut his phone and stood up with his usual dramatic flourish. He found a man stood just outside his door looking like every other nameless face who followed around Mycroft.

"My brother informs me that you can take me to the room they have John in" Sherlock stated in his usual calm detached voice. His brief respite in his mind palace had allowed him to reapply his mask of the cold calculating sociopath. Inside though he was still shaken to the core and he wasn't sure as he began to follow the man down the hall if he would be able to enter the actual operating theater and watch the doctors work on John.

"Its just through there Sir." The man informed Sherlock as they stopped in front of door to the operating theater. Since St. Barth's was a teaching hospital several of their operating rooms had theaters located above them or to the side that allowed people to watch the ongoing procedures. Sherlock hesitated once he was on the other side of the door, not quite sure if he could bear to move close enough to see what lay on the other side of the window across the room. Surveying the dimly lit room he was surprised to see his brother umbrella in hand standing at the window observing the proceedings in the room below.

After a moment Mycroft began to speak. "His condition really isn't that bad Sherlock. The current operation is removing the subdural hematoma, which formed at the skull fracture. The doctors informed me that his intracranial pressure is currently high but is not yet in the danger area and if they act quickly it is likely that Mr. Watson's injury will be classified as a moderate traumatic brain injury. As is typical of their profession they did not want to speculate yet at recovery rates or possible long-term effects but they are hopeful. They have just finished the intubation and are about to drill a hole in the skull in order to drain the hematoma. After this is complete they will return him to the room. He will be regularly monitored after that to insure that his intracranial pressure is stabilizing." Mycroft finished continuing to look into the operating room allowing his brother the privacy he needed to either decide to move forward and watch at the window or take a seat in one of the chairs along the sidewalls. After a few moments he heard his brother slowly move up the window beside him. The two Holmes brothers stood like sentinels unmoving as they watched the operation unfold in the room below them. Mycroft felt the briefest pang of empathy pull at his heart when he saw his brother flinch out of the corner of his eye, after the whirring of the bone drill started up in the room below. It was the tiniest of movements imperceptible to anyone who was not a Holmes, but still there.

Once the main procedure was complete the head surgeon looked up at the window and nodded at the two brothers signaling he was on his way up. He left the anesthesiologist and the nurses to finish reversing the paralytics and sedatives in Johns system and bandage up his head. Sherlock continued to watch the room below unable to pull his attention away from John wanting the visual assurance that his friend was still alive. His mind was still taunting him with periodic flashes of John on the ground surrounded by fire with a large pool of blood blossoming from his head.

The head surgeon cleared his throat behind Sherlock to get his attention. "Mr. Holmes, Dr. Watson listed you as his emergency contact." The man began. Sherlock whirled around at this information in shock. He had assumed that the hospital had been providing himself and his brother with information on John's progress simply because his brother had used his influence. He never suspected that John would trust him to be his emergency contact.

"His sister…?" Was the only questioning response that he could manage.

The Surgeon took another cursory glance at the clipboard in his hand. "No you are the one he has listed as his primary contact…Sherlock Holmes." He read off the sheet. "Actually I see no mention of a sister on here at all. Should we be contacting her?"

"I don't have her information and if John did not list her then he does not want her to know when he is injured." Sherlock responded. "How was the surgery?" He asked attempting to get the conversation back on topic.

"Ah yes, the procedure was a textbook removal of a subdural hematoma. Dr. Watson was lucky to have been so close to St. Barth's, we have one of the leading neurosurgical departments in Britain. In addition, the fact that Dr. Watson's injuries are relatively localized should also cause his recovery to be fairly quick. The actual damage to the skull was minimal in this case but the force of the break caused some damage to the meninges. It was necessary to drill a hole through the skull in order to drain the layer of blood which was forming underneath the skull as a result of this fracture. Since Dr. Watson was brought to the hospital shortly after the injury and there will hopefully be minimal damage caused as a result. However, it is important to remember we are talking about an injury to the brain so Dr. Watson's could experience a wide range of symptoms. Medically we divide these effects up into five major categories; physical, cognitive, sensory, perceptual, and social-emotional symptoms. Dr. Watson arrived with a surprisingly low Glasgow scale reading considering the size of the skull fracture and force involved during injury. Although other factors such as previous head injuries while deployed and the secondary impact with the ground during the accident could have played a part. What we hope to see over the next several hours is a marked improvement on the Glasgow scale with the reduction of intracranial pressure. If his ICP doesn't reduce it may become necessary to do a more drastic surgery if this is necessary I will be Dr. Watson's surgeon again. Otherwise my colleague Dr. Barlow will conduct the remainder of his care."

The surgeon relayed the information in a way not to dissimilar from Sherlock's own restrained excited ramblings when he was aware of the fact that the subject matter which he found highly fascinating left others feeling uncomfortable. He was beginning to understand now why some family members had punched him when he finished talking. Sherlock simply nodded his head in response to the surgeons explanations and turned back to the window looking down on John dismissing the man from his presence. How_ could he have forgotten about the possibility of brain damage when a head wound was involved._ He berated himself, he had been so focused on if John would live but he hadn't considered the possibility that he could have permanently altered _who _John is. As Sherlock looked down at the still man lying in the bed below him with patches of his hair shaved and large swaths of bandage around his head there was one all consuming thought spinning around in his head.

_What if John Watson lost whatever it was about his personality that allowed him to tolerate living with Sherlock Holmes._

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**_I am working to try and do longer chapters with this but I also like to keep the chapter changes at logical locations. Also I apologize in advance if it takes a couple of days before I am able to post the next update. Please feel free to give me any kind of feedback you have negative constructive criticism will only help improve my writing. Thanks a bunch to those who have followed my story, I'm only really continuing with this because of you guys ^_^._**


	6. Please Don't Change

Sherlock watched as they pushed the gurney next to Johns operating table and the nursing staff began the process of transferring John from one bed to the other. Swiftly turning on his heels Sherlock moved to return to Johns room. As he opened the door and moved into the hallway of the hospital his pace faltered. He couldn't remember which way he had come from in the maze of hospital hallways. Since he was a teen the only time that Sherlock's subconcious had not constantly mapped his location in the world was during his period of heavy drug use.

Not acknowledging his brothers split second of hesitance Mycroft moved past his him heading towards John's room. He did not spare a glance back as he walked briskly past Sherlock. Within a moment Sherlock was less than a pace behind Mycroft. An outside observer would have been incapable of noticing that either of the parties involved were unsure of where they were going.

The two men stood in silence for a moment once they reached the room. The nursing staff had yet to return with John. As usual neither of their thoughts reached their faces. The buzzing of Mycroft's phone in his pocket broke the silence, he checked the message and quickly typed a short reply.

"Well I can no longer linger here," he informed his younger brother twirling his umbrella once.

Sherlock made no motion to acknowledge that he had heard his brother. With a short nod of his head Mycroft turned and left the room. The tapping of his umbrella on the linoleum floor could be heard fading away as he moved down the hall. Once the door shut again Sherlock deflated collapsing with a long suffering sigh onto the couch. He scrubbed his hands over his face as he tried to process the last five hours. It felt as though it had been both the longest and shortest five hours of his entire life. He was not given a long respite, however because within a minute the nursing staff was pushing Johns gurney into the room and bustling about as they set up his IV drip, heart rate and oxygen monitors. None of the nurses paid any mind to Sherlock who had stood awkwardly when they entered the room. Once everything was set up and in place all of the nurses except one left the room. The last nurse grabbed the clipboard at the foot of John's bed and made a couple of notes and then turned to address Sherlock.

"Dr. Watson is in stable condition now but should there be any sort of emergency there is a nurse call button here." She said pointing to the device. "Although all of the monitors are equipped with automatic alarms if certain key measurements drop below acceptable values. A nurse will be coming in every 10 minutes for the first hour to monitor if there is any change to his performance to ensure that there are no more signs of high intracranial pressure. The surgeon chose not to utilize an invasive ICP monitor since his bleed wasn't severe. Your brother has cleared you to be able to stay after visiting hours so you are fine to stay in here for the night." The woman continued in a reassuring voice with a kind smile. Sherlock simply nodded his head curtly in response.

"Alright well the nurses desk is right out the door and down the hallway to the left so if you need anything just let us know." The nurse replied while putting back the clipboard and leaving the room.

Sherlock was left to finally face the full extent of John's situation alone for the first time since this all began. He began to feel as though that wave of blood was bearing down on him again. His hands began to sweat and the sound of the monitors seemed to slowly increase in volume until it was a cacophony of mechanical whirs and electronic beeps assaulting his eardrums. In the back of his mind his ever-logical side listed his symptoms: _intense feeling of dread, sweating, increased heart rate, difficulty breathing, nausea; you are having a panic attack. Solution: find something to anchor yourself and regulate breathing. _Sherlock attempted to match his breathing to the slow steady beats of Johns heart rate monitor. However, he could not shake the sense of dread bearing down on him and his racing heart. John just looked so…not John, wrapped up in bandages with a tube sticking out of his mouth. Then Sherlock remembered the ride to the hospital when the EMT had asked him to hold Johns arms down. Hesitantly he moved towards the bed placing two fingers over John's radial pulse point. He again matched his breathing to John's heart rate but found that this time his heart followed John's lead and began to slow down to a much more appropriate level. With an audible sigh Sherlock pulled the chair closer to the bed and prepared to begin his long vigil. He kept his hand clasped around John's wrist, rested his check on his arm and watched Johns chest rise and fall.

He quietly whispered. "I am sorry John, please don't change."

347 beats of John's heart later and the nurse came in for the first check up on John. Sherlock sat up and discreetly moved his hand off of John's wrist. It was the same nurse who had given Sherlock an idea of what to expect for the next few hours. He noticed that her name tag stated Nurse Karen.

"Hey" She said with a caring smile as she pulled the pin light out of her pocket moving to the other side of John to check his pupil dilation.

"John can you hear me?" She asked in a regular tone, "If you can I need you to try and move." She paused for a second to watch his body. Next she pulled a pin from her pocket pricking one of his fingers. Lethargically John's hand moved away from the pain. Sherlock watched all of this with rapt attention.

"What does that mean, is he recovering, getting worse?" Sherlock asked managing to keep his voice level if not moderately paced.

"Honestly, there isn't much of a change yet and really he is still recovering from the anesthesia used during his surgery." She replied with a good-natured chuckle. "Based on your friends condition we can expect him to need minimal assistance from the intubation within the next half hour. He is receiving a sedative so the tube will cause him minimal irritation. I believe the surgeon wanted to leave him intubated until he was fully awake incase of any complications." She said checking herself with the clipboard. Sherlock nodded his head storing the information in the newly created 'Important Medical Information Regarding John' room within his mind palace.

Pausing at the door before leaving Nurse Karen turned back to Sherlock. "If he wakes up while a nurse isn't in here just let him know not to try and talk, and explain to him why he has a tube in his throat he may be confused."

Sherlock returned his hand to John's wrist again once the door clicked behind her. Another 10 minutes or 490 beats of John's heart, as Sherlock was beginning to measure the passing of time by this measurement now, passed quietly. This time a different nurse came in with a silent node and went about her duties without addressing Sherlock. _I prefer this one; Nurse…Christine _Sherlock thought reading the name off of her badge as he followed her movements around John. The cycle continued three more times with a different nurse each time until it was again Nurse Karen who came through the door.

"Still awake then I see," She said with a smile to Sherlock carrying in four new IV bags with her. "Don't worry after this one we will leave you alone for a bit," She chuckled. "Dr. Watson is quite the fighter," She said as she began to replace the old IV bags with the new ones and checking the main line to the cannula inserted in the back of John's right hand. "He is improving at a good pace. His reactions to stimuli are now an appropriate speed, he is displaying increased eye movement, and his breathing has normalized. All he needs to do now is open his eyes and we will be over the first hurdle." She said with genuine happiness in her voice. _Alright maybe she isn't that bad_ Sherlock thought smiling back at her in response to her description of John as a fighter. _That's John my Army Doctor_ Sherlock thought with pride. Then pausing for a second in realization at his use of the possessive. He placed that thought in the also newly created room 'Things to Analyze Once John is Better'.

"What are in those?" Sherlock asked pointing towards the four new bags hanging from John's IV pole.

"One is the sedative for the intubation, that I mentioned earlier, one is a medication to help reduce intracranial pressure, and one is pain medication. The last one is your typical nutrients and fluids IV." She said point to each one in turn. Sherlock nodded his head in appreciation for the information.

"Well make sure you actually get some rest." Nurse Karen reminded him as she updated John's clipboard and left the room.

After she left Sherlock resumed the position he had held for the better part of the last hour. After the first completely uninterrupted half hour passed Sherlock's leg began to bounce in anticipation. _John should be waking up soon. Then I can apologize and we can go home and leave this hospital and everything will be back to normal._ Sherlock thought then as an after thought,_ except I will label every experiment I ever do in the future and keep them only in my room. _

After another hour Sherlock began to pace the room his eyes locked on John's face the entire time. _He should have woken up by now! This is a bad sign. Something is going to be wrong. He is going to want to leave. He will hate me. What if I have made him less intelligent than he already was? He will be so boring I will have to leave! _Sherlock shouted internally. After a few more minutes and rather a few laps around the room he thought. _Although John was never really an idiot and never, never boring. _Sherlock noted that his mouth had arranged itself into a half smile with the thought. As someone with little experience with emotion he imagined what he was feeling now was close to a since of endearment for the older man. Another addition to the 'Analyze Later' room, there seemed to be quite a few additions to that room tonight.

After another forty-five minutes of waiting Sherlock was practically in a low hover about the room. He would go from lying down on the couch in his thinking position, to pacing around the room, to back in the chair holding John's wrist leg bouncing wildly, to pacing again while pulling on his hair, then back to the couch again to simply glare at John as though he was taking so long to wake up for the pure amusement of tormenting Sherlock. Which to be honest if John did really have any control over it he would be highly tempted to do.

Sherlock was again pacing the room and pulling on his hair mumbling angrily at himself for being such an idiot and leaving the jar so close to edge of the sink he froze when he thought he heard a rustling sound coming from John's bed. Looking over he saw that John's hand was twitching like someone rousing from a dream. Sherlock practically leapt to the side of the bed staring into John's face willing him to open his eyes.

Slowly John opened his eyes. His eyes blinked slowly coming to focus and then making contact with Sherlock's eyes.

"JOHN!" Sherlock practically shouted. Then in a whisper after John flinched in response to his volume. "John, you have a tube in your throat to help with breathing don't try to talk I'll call the nurses." Sherlock pressed the call button as he said this. John simply continued to stare at him blinking occasionally.

"John I am so so sorry. This is all my fault you were right I shouldn't have been doing experiments in the kitchen. I am so glad that you are awake I feel as if it has taken you years to wake up. You haven't been in a comma for years of course its only been a couple of hours." Sherlock rambled. Then noticing that John hadn't really moved much since he started talking other than simply blinking and following Sherlocks face he paused. "John can you understand what I'm saying? Blink if you can understand me." Sherlock asked, panic beginning to settle in his stomach. However, before he could get a response the two nurse on call came though the door quickly moving to John to assess his condition. The man and woman moved quickly and efficiently around John performing the extubation. John coughed slightly as the female nurse suctioned fluids from his throat before attaching an oxygen mask over Johns nose and mouth.

"Dr. Watson how are you feeling?" The male nurses asked. "Can you blink a couple of times for me if you understand what I'm saying." The nurse said in a kind slow voice. At first John appeared to be responding but it was soon clear that his eyelids had simply grown heavy with exhaustion and he had fallen back asleep.

"John," Sherlock attempted "please blink if you can understand me." Sherlock pleaded with the other man. John slowly opened his eyes briefly looked around the room and fell back asleep.

"He is just exhausted right now," The man explained. "Let him get a little more rest and we will try again. Its normal for patients to be a bit disoriented when they first come out of coma." He explained gently updating Johns chart.

"Dr. Barlow will be coming in at 7:30. She is a great Doctor and she will be able to explain to you what to expect in the next couple of days." The female nurse said trying to reassure a loved one she could tell was extremely worried now. "Just let us know again if he wakes up." She said on her way out the door.

"You should try to get some rest as well." The male nurse said with a half smile as he left.

Sherlock remained were he was the entire time they were talking to him. His face was still starring at Johns in slight disbelief that his friend hadn't comprehended what he was being told. _John always does what I ask of him if I actually say please. Does this mean that John has changed? What if he honestly couldn't understand what we were saying._ Sherlock's mind kept circling around more and more negative thoughts. His photographic memory supplying him with stored images and videos of individuals suffering from mental impairment after serious trauma and the difficulties they could have with day to day tasks. _I don't know if I could forgive myself if John were brain damaged because of my actions. _He thought as he sat down to hold John's wrist again not even consciously thinking about the action anymore. He glanced at his watch it was nearly four in the morning. _Ugh he thought its been over 8 1/2 hours since this all started._ He rested his head on his other arm again so that he could watch John's chest rise and fall with each breath that he breathed on his own now. The combined sensation of feeling John's pulse and watching his breathes began to slowly ease the tension out of Sherlocks body and mind. Half asleep already he thought; _I think if John is broken, I will take care of him. Sherlock Holmes was asleep a moment later. Had he still been conscious that thought alone would have taken up an entire section of the 'Analyze Later' room._

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**Hey guys so thank you again to everyone who chose to follow this story or add it to their favorites. You guys are my motivation. I'm trying to get you longer chapters.**

**Also I am not in any way trained in most of this medical stuff. I do try to do research because I like stories to sound right but if anyone has experience with this stuff and realizes something is off with what I wrote please let me know for my own education and so I can update the story. **

**Critical reviews are much appreciated ^_^ or if there are any interested Beta readers that would be awesome too. **


	7. The Doctor's Doctor

Sherlock woke with a jolt as his hand slapped down onto the mattress he was resting his head on. He sat up immediately. _John is awake, _he thought eagerly. However as his eyes focused he saw that John was currently trying to pull the cannula out of his right hand, scratching lethargically at the edge of the medical tape holding it in place. Sherlock moved into action quickly, grabbing Johns hands and forcing them to his sides. The heart rate monitor beside the bed began to pick up its pace.

"John, you need to leave that alone it's supplying you with important medication." Sherlock said with a slow authoritative voice. Looking to John's face he discovered that his eyes were still shut. Rather than calming down John began to thrash about on the bed kicking his legs and moaning loudly. An alarm went off on the heart rate monitor as John's heart rate shot up.

"JOHN! You have to calm down." Sherlock shouted to no avail. He thought he heard John mumbling under the mask, it reminded him of John's PTSD induced nightmares. Relaxing the amount of restraint he was applying to John's wrists he tried again. "John, it's Sherlock, you're safe, you're in the hospital. I need you to calm down. Just take deep breathes and focus on the sound of my voice." Sherlock said in a loud but calm tone of voice.

A nurse burst through the door behind Sherlock but he was busy watching John his movements had decreased somewhat and his heart rate was beginning to stabilize.

"That's it John just calm down everything is going to be alright" Sherlock said slowly and calmly. John finally began to still, relaxing into the mattress with his head turned to face the direction of Sherlock's voice.

"Looks like you've got it under control," The nurse behind him said with an adrenaline filled chuckle, placing the protective cap back on the syringe of sedative he had brought with him. He moved to update the chart at the foot of John's bed.

"John are you awake can you hear me?" Sherlock said ignoring the nurse. "Go ahead and open your eyes John." The nurse moved to the other side of John checking over his vitals and ensuring that he hadn't pulled loose of any of the monitors or IV lines. John did not seem to react to either party; he appeared to have returned to a deep sleep again. Sherlock stopped restraining him and watched John's face for a moment longer, willing him to open his eyes. When he looked up Sherlock noticed that the nurse was giving him a fond smile. He followed the man's gaze to where his right hand was still gently resting on John's pulse point. He let his hand fall back to his side ignoring the man's slight frown at the action.

"I know this is frustrating, but he really is showing a considerable amount of improvement," He reassured him as he returned to his duties.

Sherlock continued to stand watching John's eyes for any flicker of movement. However, when he caught himself reaching out for John's wrist again he moved to sit on the couch this time. _I need to break this habit I have formed. John will surely think of it as 'not good' since he does not like 'to give people reason to talk' as he says, regarding our friendship. _Sherlock thought to him self, struggling to ignore how cold his right hand now felt without the reassurance of John's pulse underneath it. Sherlock exhaled forcefully as he ran his hands over his face and checked his watch. It was only 4:23am he had only slept for twenty minutes but now his heart was racing again and he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep. He placed his hands together under his nose and assumed his thinking position, contemplating what recent events meant with regards to John's health. The room stilled with the only sounds coming from the machinery, which was monitoring John's health.

Sherlock continued to order and process data for the next half an hour. _I need more information. _He internally growled in frustration as he pulled his cell phone out in his typical melodramatic flourish. He proceeded to spend the next two hours researching; head injuries, traumatic brain injuries, coma, and likely recovery rates of patients, until his phone beeped warning him that his battery was critically low.

**Mycroft need cell charger –SH **

He angrily typed into his phone before it turned off on him. Then considering how frustrating it had been conducting his research on a cell phone he added.

**Bring my laptop as well –SH**

After a few moments he watched with a frustrated sigh as his cell phone powered itself off.

With nothing to distract him he began to fidget again. He had constantly been checking on John throughout his research and the other man had barely moved since the episode earlier. The research itself hadn't really helped his level of stress either. Every website itemized a laundry list of possible symptoms with the constant addition that it was highly difficult to predict a patients level of impairment. The research also allowed Sherlock to discover just how bad John's condition could have been had he not received treatment as quickly as he did. One journal had listed that for patients with a GCS of 5-7 patients had a 53% chance of dying or ending up in a vegetative state. Without the surgery to remove the subdural hematoma and the medication that was reducing his intracranial pressure John's chances would have decreased even lower.

Sherlock buried his face in his hands desperately trying to tamp down the swelling sense of guilt and self-loathing. Everyone assumed that Sherlock was completely devoid of the ability to feel emotions but this wasn't true. What he possessed was a skill, gained at a very young age, to take his emotions and force them into the basement of his mind palace where he kept all the memories he had chosen to 'delete'. Yes, John was right when he stated that the human mind didn't work like a hard drive with the ability to delete memory. However, you could build barriers and as far as Sherlock was concerned everything in that basement had never existed.

Sherlock let out a frustrated huff of air as he tugged at his hair going through his mental routine that allowed him to compress the emotions and chuck them into the basement of his mind palace. Even with the difficulty he was currently having the entire process only took a matter of seconds.

A few moments after Sherlock had settled back into his position of restless waiting he heard a light rap at the door followed by a woman entering the room clipboard in hand. She looked over John laying in the bed, a micro expression of genuine sadness flittering across her face, before she turned towards the couch. Sherlock watched her taking in the details of her appearance before she had even turned towards him. She had dark brown hair pulled tightly back into a bun and was wearing a professional grey suit with a skirt of modest length and comfortable dress shoes. Over top of that she wore her white Doctor's coat with a neat row of pens aligned by height sticking out of her pocket. She was wearing a wedding ring on her hand; not a huge diamond, but not a small one either.

"Dr. Barlow" Sherlock greeted as he stood to shake her hand. He noted a small dusting of white powder located around her wrists. As his mind automatically put the details he had observed together he stored the information as intriguing but decided that at the moment John was the priority.

"You must be Mr. Holmes," She said with a practiced smile. "Would you like to take a seat and we will discuss Johns current condition and what events may arise in the future." She said gesturing towards the couch.

Once they were seated she took a brief pause to collect her thoughts and then began. "Mr. Holmes your friend has suffered what is known as a traumatic brain injury or TBI. Based off of the fact that his coma has lasted over eight hours and he had a GCS or Glasgow coma score of 7 when he arrived his TBI is going to be categorized as either a moderate or severe case." She paused to let that sink in. "Now, Dr. Watson is doing remarkably well, based off of what occurred earlier tonight he almost scored a 10 on the GCS. A patient is considered no longer in a coma once we can consistently observe a GCS of 9 or higher." Sherlock nodded his head in understanding, having already found most of this information online. "Mr. Holmes it is important to understand that the next several days to weeks are going to be very challenging not only for Dr. Watson but for you as well. I know that the general public tends to believe that coming out of a coma is similar to the movies but there isn't a magical moment were the patient opens their eyes and is completely back to their old self. Putting aside for the moment the possibility of long term symptoms all patients will experience a period of post-traumatic amnesia after they first wake up. This means not only will he be missing some memories from before the accident but he will also be unable to properly store memories for a time. He may repeat questions or not recall things that have just been explained. He will have attention problems as well and based on the location of his injury possibly some vision problems. In addition, the injury and healing process can cause a 'chemical storm' as it were within the brain causing emotional difficulties as well." She paused preparing to breach a more uncomfortable topic. "With all this in mind it is necessary that I ask Mr. Holmes what is the nature of your relationship with Dr. Watson." Dr. Barlow quickly uttered clearly not as comfortable with the emotional as she was with the medical.

"Contrary to what the media likes to surmise Dr. Watson and I are simply roommates and colleagues." Sherlock replied with his usual lack of emotion. Internally he was partially amused as he could picture Watson frustrated and grumbling 'Not a Couple!'. For a brief millisecond he recalled another emotion accompanying those memories but he quickly returned the information to the basement of his mind palace to be forgotten. Returning to the conversation at hand he replied. "I fail to see what relevance that fact has to Dr. Watson's condition."

"I'm sorry, I do not wish to offend, what I mean is that the family and friends of an individual who has suffered a traumatic brain injury are an integral part of the recovery plan and can help improve the patients rate of recovery and chances for a full recovery. Essentially what I mean is you need to figure out soon if you are going to be willing to commit fully to Dr. Watson's recovery. If not it might be better for Dr. Watson to be assigned a full time caregiver by the hospital so that he does not suffer any unnecessary emotional stress during his recovery." She finished gaining confidence toward the end reassured in the knowledge that she was acting in her patient's best interest.

_She didn't think we were in a relationship. __She believes I am a machine and will be incapable of providing John with the care and support his condition will require. _With that realization a rage built up in Sherlock with such speed and force as to over take his mental safety measures against the display of emotions.

"I assure you Dr. Barlow I'm not so cruel as to abandon my friend when he needs me most." Sherlock snarled unable to keep the venom from his voice. Then with an angry sneer he added. "Did the desire to leave ever cross your mind when your family member was recovering from their injury." As his logical mind finally began to reign in his emotions he knew that John would deem his comment 'not good'.

Dr. Barlow who had lowered her gaze in shame at Sherlock's first statement jerked her head to look at Sherlock more directly after the second. The shock, pain, and anger were written all over her face.

"NO! of course not," She spat with the same amount of intensity Sherlock had. Then realizing the point he had been trying to make her anger deflated. "of course not…but how…how did you know?" She said quietly.

Sherlock having completely suppressed his emotions again, proceeded to rapidly list his deductions. "Your clothing and appearance informed me that you are a very professional individual who believes in looking the part as well. Based on the pens in your pocket I determined that you are highly organized bordering on the compulsive. The combination of these two means that you have your morning schedule down to a science and do not simply sleep in. So then why are you here almost an hour later than the nurse said you would arrive? The logical assumption would be that you saw another patient first but then your clipboard disproved that. John's file is the top page and yet there is no crease along the top edge of the paper from having been folded back in order to view the papers underneath. Then we come to your wrists. They have traces of cornstarch powder arranged in a fashion that one finds after an individual has removed powdered medical gloves. Now since I had concluded already that you haven't seen any other patients yet then why would you have already worn and disposed of a pair of medical gloves. The only conclusion is that you were wearing them while treating someone at your own home. Finally the look you gave John as you entered the room was similar to that of an individual being forced to relive a painful memory. Putting all this information together I concluded that you currently have a family member living at home who has recently suffered a significant injury." Sherlock quickly and succinctly listed.

"…I'm…I'm not sure what to say. I guess the newspapers didn't exaggerate your skills." Dr. Barlow chuckled mirthlessly then after a pause she added in a quieter voice. "Its my husband, James. He is…he was a cop. He was attacked while patrolling by a man with a hunting knife. He stabbed James multiple times before his partner was able to knock the man unconscious. When James' partner tried to help him back to the panda car, he…he couldn't move his legs. The blade had caused damage to his spin paralyzing him from the waist down." She struggled to explain. "James still requires a moderate amount of at home care." She finished choosing not to go into detail regarding what health complications delayed her this morning.

Sherlock wished he had managed to reign in his anger at being accused of not being a good friend to John. He hadn't really intended to make the woman relive what was probably the worst night of her life. _This is exactly why people consider you cruel. _He berated himself.

"I…I admit that deduction was probably in the category of things I should have kept to myself." Sherlock stated giving the closest thing to an apology he could offer. "John generally stops me before I share those kind of deductions" He added quietly realizing that fact should probably also be added to the ever growing 'analyze later' room.

Dr. Barlow gave him an understanding smile in response. The two of them shared a quiet moment as they both thought about James and John.

"Well, Mr. Holmes I think it is clear that you are committed to the task of helping John in his recovery. In a day or two you will need to talk with the rehabilitation physician to discuss what John was like before the accident so that we can come up with a plan of action that will best suit him." She said standing up and moving over to John's bed to preform her exam of the patient. Sherlock looked up hopefully when he heard John moan in complaint at a sternum rub. His eyes opened briefly in response to the pain. However he did not open them again when the doctor asked him to or move his hand when she asked him. She gently lifted his head off of the pillows checking the bandages around his head. When Dr. Barlow completed her exam she made some notes on her clipboard and the one at the foot of the bed.

"Alright well he is still at a 9 on the GCS so we can consider him officially out of his coma and in a minimally conscious state. We will check his progress every couple of hours to monitor his improvement. Like I stated earlier Mr. Holmes he is going to be very disoriented when he first starts waking up so allow him to process things at his own pace. Do you have any remaining questions for me?" She said looking towards him expectantly.

"No nothing else." Sherlock replied still feeling rather disappointed after watching John again shut his eyes.

With a nod Dr. Barlow left the room briskly moving on towards her next patient.

Sherlock paced the room with nervous energy for a little while after she left. _Could he honestly be the support network that John would need while he was recovering? After all the only reason the man was injured in the first place was because of him. _The negative thoughts began to swarm around his mind. He had the overwhelming urge to run away from the hospital. _Perhaps it would be better if I left John to the nursing staff and go distract my mind with a case. _He thought desperately eyeing the door like a caged animal. Then he looked back at John and the desire to run completely left him as he collapsed in the chair by his bed. "How did I ever manage to make a friend such as you John?" He whispered quietly to the sleeping man. "At every turn you have been willing to risk your life for me, to even kill for me and I can't even wait by your bedside without contemplating running away." He added with self-loathing. He sat like that for a while attempting to will John awake with the intensity of his gaze. However, with the adrenaline gone and nothing to stimulate his mind his eyelids began to grow heavy and soon he began to nod off. Resting his head on the edge of John's bed.

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**A/N: Hey I finally figured out how to do that line thing lol. Hope you all are enjoying the story. As always feel free to give me some constructive criticism so that I can improve my writing. **


	8. Realization Dawns

**A/N: Sorry guys I tried to keep the story non committal on the whole JohnLock thing but I couldn't do it. The story just seems to be writing itself in that direction. To those that are interested in those kind of stories hurray read on and enjoy what I hope will be an emotional roller-coaster.**

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Mycroft realized that considering how busy a man he was he probably should have just tasked an assistant with delivering the laptop bag with cell phone and chargers to Sherlock. However, he was also curious to see what further effects the injury of John Watson had caused in his brother. He would be lying if he didn't admit that it had shaken even him watching Sherlock go into shock like that after arriving at the hospital. He hoped that the good doctor pulled through quickly with no lasting damage because he honestly had no idea how his little brother might respond otherwise.

Mycroft paused briefly as he reached Dr. Watson's private room, bracing himself to deal with whatever state he found Sherlock in on the other side. As he quietly opened the door however, he was pleasantly surprised. It would have even been possible for one with a Holmes-ian eye for detail to notice the faintest of smiles play across his face. Before him sat his little brother slumped forward with his elbows on his knees and his head pillowed in one hand on the mattress while the other propped up his chin. Dr. Watson had rolled over on his side at some point and had shifted his body near Sherlock's in an instinctual search for warmth.

Mycroft quietly placed the laptop bag onto the couch and pulled out his own cellphone from his pocket. This time with a clearly visible and slightly mischevious smile he took a photo of the two flat mates. Then, knowing Sherlock's cellphone had died and wouldn't ring until he plugged it in he sent the following texts.

**You two look comfortable :) [Pic] –MH**

**Also call Mrs. Hudson she attempted to badger me with a thousand questions while I was at your residence. - MH **

He briefly skimmed the clipboard at the foot of Dr. Watson's bed detailing his medical treatment. Observing that a note referencing in-hospital rehabilitation had been added he took a look around the room then sent a text to his secretary.

**Have someone bring an electric kettle, some tea, a blanket, a pillow, and some food to Saint Barth's Hospital room 293. –MH**

Having completed his brotherly duties he pocketed his phone and left the room swinging his umbrella as he left.

* * *

Sherlock felt himself being slowly drawn back to consciousness. The first thing he became aware of was the sensation of something gently scratching at his scalp and in his half conscious state he found himself leaning in to the feeling. Next he was aware of the sounds that were surrounding him. There was a rhythmic beeping and whirring noise as well as what sounded like mumbling. With the strong odor of disinfectant and freshly bleached bedding filling his nose his mind began to fully surface as he remembered he was in John's ICU room at the hospital.

_Wait is John playing with my hair! _Sherlock thought with a start as his genius mind fully surfaced from sleep. He cracked one eye open, not really wanting whoever it turned out to be, to stop the soothing ministrations to his scalp. He couldn't help the giant grin that spread across his face as he took in the situation.

At some point while Sherlock was sleeping John had rolled over on his side curling around where Sherlock had his head resting on the mattress. Still in his minimally conscious state his right hand had found its way to Sherlock's hair. Based on the last understandable mumblings that the detective had over heard of '…good dog…' his curly mop of black hair was playing the role of a childhood pet in John's dream. Chuckling to himself lightly, unsure if he should be insulted or not, Sherlock allowed the calming sensation to continue. _He almost looks younger than me like this, all innocent and relaxed his boyish features are even more prominent_ Sherlock noted finding himself admiring his friends face and enjoying the warm sensation radiating through his body as a result of the feather light scratches to his scalp. _I wonder if subconsciously he knows that it's my hair he is playing with? _Sherlock thought to himself curiously. _I hope he does. _Was the almost immediate response from the emotional part of Sherlock's mind which he was constantly trying to deny existed.

_Oh. I am an idiot! _Sherlock berated himself. He suddenly found himself in his mind palace standing in the middle of the 'Analyze later' room. There was now a common thread neatly connecting all of the rooms contents and it was labeled **_John_.** _This is definitely 'not good' and this is the worst possible time to realize this. I have no other option but to delete these dangerous feelings and return to my previous ignorance._ He thought with a sense of certainty._ Actually, I wonder if I have not already made this realization once before and deleted the emotions then as well. It would explain how I managed to miss something as significant as this._ He postulated to himself. Yet, as he struggled to return his stronger than necessary emotional attachments to John back to the basement of his mind palace he made no effort to move away from the other man's hand. Thus, eventually the soothing pressure to his scalp began to pull him back into unconsciousness.

* * *

Sherlock woke again as a nurse came in to check on John.

"Oh sorry I didn't mean to wake you just doing a quick checkup." The nurse whispered as she noticed Sherlock lifting his head off of the bed. Waving away her concern Sherlock stood and stretched his long frame groining as his spine popped protesting against the hunched position he had slept in. Noting the lap top bag on the couch he moved to plug in his cell phone and pull out his laptop. He quickly left the objects and returned to John's bedside when he heard the nurses overly sweet voice exclaim. "Good Dr. Watson now try and stay awake for me, just for a few minutes."

John was wearily blinking his eyes his pupils lazily searching the room struggling to focus. "Now I want you to try and lift your arm Dr. Watson." The nurse continued in a slow deliberate voice. Johns eyes slowly moved to focus on the nurse a slight squint of his eyes wrinkling his face. Then as the nurse repeated her request for the second time Sherlock glimpsed understanding cross John's face. After a second his left hand slowly lifted about 10cm off the bed before collapsing back again. "Good job Dr. Watson. I know your probably confused but you are at St. Barths Hospital. You had an accident." She explained simply. "Your head is probably going to hurt quite a bit and you might have difficulty remembering things. Don't let that frustrate you though, its perfectly natural for someone coming out of a coma." She continued kindly but it was clear John was struggling to maintain his focus on the woman and his eyelids were beginning to droop. Not wanting to miss his chance to make his presence known Sherlock quickly stepped up beside the bed. "John, its me Sherlock, I just…I wanted to…" Sherlock started unsure of what to say after he started. "I wanted you to know I'll be right here, if you need anything" he finished lamely after a pause. The other man squinted at Sherlock with the same look of confusion he had given the nurse earlier. However, before any look of understanding appeared this time John's eyes were closed again, losing his struggle against sleep.

"Just give him a little more time." The nurse told Sherlock with a pitying smile. He really was beginning to hate the nursing staff as a result of those smiles. It was as if they thought the slightest amount of bad news and Sherlock might just crumble like a piece of fragile glass. If they weren't necessary for John's recovery Sherlock would be tempted to abuse his brother's authority and have them all banned from John's room. After the nurse had left he sat back down in the chair beside John's bed his hand moving to grasp John's pulse point. Sherlock had come to the conclusion that given John's current state he ran no risk of aggravating John, especially given how unaware of his surroundings the man currently was. However, as he felt the steady thrum of John's heart beat and felt the warm flush the sensation brought to his own skin he knew he had not managed to delete his emotional epiphany from earlier. Slowly as if of its own volition his hand moved from John's wrist down to entwine his fingers with the doctors. The flush to his skin increased and Sherlock felt his own heart rate increase within his chest. He closed his eyes to simply enjoy the sensation for a moment. He began to slowly circle his thumb on the back of John's hand as thousands of questions circled his mind. Sherlock was brought back to the present with startling speed when a quiet mumble from John caused him to retract his hand quickly and distance himself from the bed. His heart was racing with fear and he felt as though he had just been caught in the act of some terrible crime. When he raised his eyes to look at John again he saw the man's eyes were still shut. _How could I have allowed myself to become so emotionally dependent on another person. _Sherlock thought with self loathing. He couldn't yet bring himself to use any other kind of descriptive words for the emotion he was feeling. Sherlock relaxed some, realizing that John had not woken up. He buried his face in his hands letting out a long frustrated sigh and wondering what he was going to do when John was fully conscious and realized that Sherlock had become emotionally attached to him. John may not have the great detectives skills of deduction when it came to a crime scene but the good doctor was highly skilled at matters regarding physical and emotional health. Running his fingers through his hair in frustration he moved back to the couch to turn on his cellphone desperate to find some kind of distraction from this emotional struggle he seemed unable to delete.

His phone buzzed as it turned on informing him that he had several messages.

**Sherlock is John alright! I just stopped by Baker Street and Mrs. Hudson was a mess. -GL**

Realizing he probably should have given the poor woman an update by now Sherlock quickly sent her a text.

**John is going to be alright he just needs to stay at the hospital for a while in order to fully recover. -SH**

He sent the same text to Lestrade adding that he would not be able to help out much with his case but if he wanted he could bring the file to John's hospital room for him to look over. The next message that Sherlock had received was from Mycroft and had a picture attached. Opening the picture Sherlock let out a sigh of irritation at his older brother quickly typing out a reply in response.

**Do not use emoticons brother they do not suit you. -SH**

However, when he moved to delete the photo he could not bring himself to do so instead moving to check the other message from his brother and then closing his phone. Besides why would John ever go through the pictures on Sherlock's phone. A moment later Sherlock's thoughts were pulled away from the subject as his phone began to buzz in his hand.

**I am sorry that this is happening now but we really need your help on this case would it be possible to bring the file by this afternoon? I can bring Mrs. Hudson as well she seemed really worried about you two. –GL**

Sherlock only took a moment to contemplate this realizing that he needed a distraction from these emotions that refused to remain deleted.

**Yes that's fine. John is in room 293 at St. Barth's. -SH**


	9. Sandhurst Days

**AN/: Sorry for the delay in the updates but with everything that is going to be going on soon I thought it would be a good idea to create more of an outline before continuing much further. I hope you all enjoy the next chapters. **

* * *

"What could Mycroft possibly want now!" Sherlock shouted in response to the prim short knock to the door. Then he quickly glanced over at John to see if his shouting had stirred the man at all. He thought he saw a slight frown cross his features, the one that generally accompanied his admonishing looks of _Not good Sherlock, _but he shook his head dismissing it as related to his frustratingly emotional state at the moment.

"Mr. Holmes may I come in," replied the man on the other side of the door in a Posh accent.

"Yes, yes the doors open don't be unnecessarily proper with me I'm not Mycroft." Sherlock said exasperatedly splayed out on the couch.

"Well actually Mr. Holmes my hands are quite full if you wouldn't mind assisting me with the door." The man responded with a light chuckle in his voice.

With a put upon sigh Sherlock leaned over the arm of the couch and threw the door open.

The man really did have his hands full he was carrying a small cool box in one hand with a large blanket slung over the arm and a pillow tucked underneath. In the other hand he grasped an electric kettle with a tuberware container full of tea pressed to his chest with the same arm. The man shuffled into the room and began placing the items on the counter across from the bed. Removing two mugs wrapped in a tea towel from inside the kettle the man turned to face Sherlock.

"Would you like a cup of tea and a sandwich Mr. Holmes? Your brother has asked me to ensure that you consume some sustenance before I leave." The man stated.

Sherlock squinted at the man. "Given that most of my brothers employees are well aware of my personality the fact that you are here on this assignment means that you are either trying desperately to gain my brothers favor or you have done something to profoundly annoy my brother but are valuable enough not to fire." Sherlock rattled off while continuing to gather more data from the man's appearance. After a moment he concluded, "Ah the later then, well in that case…" He said with a smile moving to open the cool box and pulling out a singular grape. He tossed the piece of fruit in his mouth and crushed it with his teeth. "You can now inform my brother that you watched me eat some fruit without him being able to catch you in a lie." Sherlock said with a smirk. The man returned Sherlock's smile, "Well I will allow you to return to your friend then, good afternoon Mr. Holmes." The man said with a nod turning to leave the room.

"Oh by the way," Sherlock added as the man reached the door, "please feel free to continue with what ever action of yours caused my brother so much irritation." The man chuckled as he shut the door behind himself.

When Sherlock turned and was reminded of the state that John was in the smirk fell from his face. _I miss John's smile. _The thought randomly popped into Sherlock's mind and it startled him with its level of emotional intensity. It seemed as though now that his mind had connected the dots regarding John the frequency with which he experienced these emotional moments seemed to be increasing. He began to pace the room again in frustration.

A few minutes later he froze mid step in response to the groan he heard from the bed behind him. When he turned he was startled to see John sluggishly struggling to sit up. He rushed to his friend's side gently applying pressure to his shoulder to get him to lie back down again.

"Calm down John you don't need to be sitting up just yet." Sherlock said in as calming a voice as he could muster while he internally suppressed his body's response to the spike in adrenaline it was receiving at seeing John so active. His heart skipped a beat though when John began to talk in a gravely unused voice.

"Beldon mate why did you let me sleep in, you know Staff Sergeant is going to kill me if I'm late for parade again." John half slurred.

Sherlock was confused he had no idea what John was talking about or who he thought he was talking to.

"John your in hospital," He attempted to explain. However, John continued as if he didn't hear him.

"…can't be late going to get a Platoon Commander's Warning..." He started to try and sit up again swatting weakly at Sherlock's hand on his shoulder.

"John!" Sherlock shouted this time waiting as the disoriented man's eyes slowly moved to look at Sherlock blinking for a moment in confusion.

"Your not Beldon," John said dumbly, "and I'm not in my barracks?" he added looking around the room in confusion.

"That's what I was trying to tell you, you're in hospital." Sherlock said sitting back in the chair by the bed so that he wasn't towering over John.

"hospital…huh…" John repeated not quite sounding as though he understood. The room grew quite as John simply stared up at the roof as if still confused by his situation. Sherlock was at a loss for what to say all of the conversations that he had thought of while John lay in his coma seemed to have just vanished. Then suddenly John sat up with startling speed considering his condition.

"I can't be in hospital they will put me in Lucknow Platoon, I need to get back to training. We were in the middle…of…of…" John started out shouting then slowly faded off as he slumped back in the bed. His sudden upward movement had caused him to grow faint and Sherlock could see his face paling slightly.

"Beldon I think I'm .. take a nap..." John mumbled as his eyes slowly shut and he was once again asleep.

Sherlock who had stood up again when John had sat up so suddenly now starred at his friend in shock and fear. His mind had pieced together the terminology John had been using and realized that he had thought he was back at Sandhurst. Based off of Sherlock's estimates on when John had joined the officer corps that meant John had believed it was about a decade earlier than it was.

Attempting to quell the rising fear and despair in the pit of his stomach Sherlock reminded himself that the Doctor had mentioned John would be confused and disoriented for a couple of days no matter what. Taking a deep breath he maintained control over his rising emotions. Standing he moved over to the counter to fix a cup of tea. He allowed his mind to focus wholly on the task of preparing the cup of tea. He chuckled when he realized that he was utilizing John's method of coping with stress. The man truly had a profound impact on his life. He allowed himself to get lost for a moment in his happy memories of John; preparing him tea just the way he liked it without him having to ask for some, pestering him about eating regularly, carefully stitching up his cuts from having to subdue a suspect. The man had always been constantly fussing over Sherlock's health and well being. This thought gave him pause, could it be that John was interested in Sherlock as well. Sipping his mug of tea he turned to look at John with a look of hope and longing briefly moving across his face before he returned to a look of neutrality. Placing his mug on the bedside table he collapsed back into the chair next to John's bed with a heavy exhale. _Get a hold of yourself_; _this is why sentiment is dangerous John has stated on multiple occasions that he isn't gay. Why would he have had reason to lie? _As Sherlock thought this his mind palace supplied him with a flash of his first dinner with John at Angelo's.

-FLASH BACK-

_"You don't have a girlfriend then?"_

_"Girlfriend…no…not my area."_

_"…alright…do you have a boyfriend, which is fine by the way."_

_"I know its fine." (He had never felt shame over the fact that before he had chosen to treat his body purely as transport he had found himself attracted only to males.)_

_John was smiling his teeth showing but it looked almost forced. "…so you've got a boyfriend." (had that been disappointment on his face or simply discomfort at the conversation topic?)_

_"No"_

_"right…ok…" John let out a relieved sigh combined with a chuckle. "Your unattached just like me" John subconsciously licked his lips as he finished this statement. "…fine, good." (lip licking can sometimes be a subconscious display of the desire to kiss someone he contemplated or was he simply seeing what he wanted to see in retrospect?)_

_(It had been at this point the first time around that Sherlock had even thought about the possibility that his new flat mate might be romantically interested.)_

_"John…umm, I think you should know that I consider myself married to my work and while I'm flattered by your interest I" (His response had been honest at the time he was not interested in anything outside of his work but so much had changed since he made that statement.)_

_"No…No " John stuttered while swallowing his food and shaking his head as though struggling to find a way to deal with the situation. " No I'm not asking… No I'm not interested…" John repeated himself the second time with more conviction. Sherlock with little experience in dealing with others romantic interest accepted that he had been mistaken in his conclusions with little difficulty. (Although as he looked back at the memory a second time he had to wonder if John had been attempting to protect himself emotionally after realizing that Sherlock had essentially said there was no way he would ever be interested in him.)_

-FLASH BACK-

Was it possible that Sherlock had been correct on his initial deduction of John's bi-sexuality and interest in him that day and simply miscalculated the effect his rejection would have on John. What if John had continually insisted on pretending he wasn't bi-sexual in order to help keep his own emotions in check choosing to have a platonic relationship with Sherlock rather than no relationship at all. Or perhaps, and rather Sherlock suspected, was he creating a plausible fiction to believe in as a result of his current realization of his own interest in John. Steeple-ing his fingers under his chin Sherlock returned to his mind palace to continue rehashing memories of their time together over the last couple of years. He wished not for the first time that he was more adept at interpreting peoples emotional states and motivations in maters not pertaining to crimes. His cup of tea grew cold, forgotten as the genius racked his mind for answers to the mystery that is John Watson.


	10. A Simple Case

Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson where surprised to see that Sherlock was standing outside of John's room as they approached room 293. Things began to make more sense as they saw that Sherlock appeared to be talking very animatedly with a member of the nursing staff who was growing more and more distraught with each word that was said to her. Lestrade quickened his pace jogging down the hallway. Catching the last of Sherlock's bitter and venomously whispered tirade at the woman just before she ran off nearly in tears.

"If you are constantly causing the patients under your care more pain and duress then it is no wonder that your boyfriend is wholly unsupportive of your career in medicine. Perhaps he is correct in his judgment that you should find different employment."

Lestrade placed a hand on Sherlock's shoulder and the man immediately tensed whirling and refocusing his anger and frustration on a new target.

"Whoa, whoa easy now what's gotten you so worked up Sherlock" Lestrade said slowly putting his hands up in a placating manner and taking a step back.

"That woman…That sorry excuse for a medical practitioner! She was practically torturing John, if this is the best care this hospital can offer I should get John released into an alternate care provider immediately. That sadists will never step foot in that room again." Sherlock seethed.

"Sherlock take a deep breath and calm down." Lestrade suggested completely expecting the sarcastic eye roll he received in return, but Sherlock did take a deep breath. "Alright now explain to me with facts not exaggerations what happened with the nurse." Lestrade said taking a small amount of pleasure in using one of Sherlock's lines on the man himself. Perhaps if nothing else came from this terrible accident Sherlock might gain a small modicum of empathy for the family members he harasses at crime scenes.

"I had been in my mind palace organizing…my thoughts" Sherlock explained hesitating briefly to find the right words at the end. "When I became aware of the sound of John practically keening in pain." When I looked up that woman had practically sat on John's chest in order to pin his arms and was practically assaulting John's already injured skull in her sorry attempt at changing the bandage. When I told her that she needed to increase John's pain medication, she stated she could not, completely ignoring the moans of pain coming from John as she yanked the bandages around his skull. She did not even attempt to explain to John what was going on. I attempted to turn John's medication up myself but she removed the key from the machine before I could adjust it. Eventually John appeared to pass out from the pain and at that point I could not stand her blatant disregards for John's pain and left for the hallway. When she left the room shortly after I made it perfectly clear to her that her sadistic behavior would be reported." Sherlock stated crossing his arms against his chest and looking away from Lestrade with a look of self-righteous disdain on his face.

Lestrade let out a heavy sigh, he had supposed it would only be a matter of time before the "in shock" Sherlock wore off and petulant man/child Sherlock made his presence known. He had hoped it would have been after his visit but after knowing Sherlock for so many years he was use to this.

"Sherlock did you consider the fact that the nurse may have explained everything to John before she began but due to his head injury he did not fully understand or remember. In addition, that same head injury could have caused John to be highly combative to normal routine care." Lestrade asked patiently giving Sherlock an expectant look as that information sunk in.

"Yes…well…even if that were so, which I'm not saying, she could have at least raised John's dosage." Sherlock stated irritably.

"Sherlock!" This time Lestrades voice had a some edge to it he could not afford for Sherlock not to acknowledge his next words. "You of all people should recognize the necessity of ensuring that John is not administered to much pain medication. I know that your brother has gained you full access to John's room but if I suspect that you may cause him harm by being here I will have you removed. You will not adjust John's medication, do you understand me." Lestrade stated firmly, not quite yelling but in what some of the boys at the station deemed his "disappointed father" tone. Initially Sherlock's eyes were aflame with indignation and fury as he glared back at Lestrade. However, as what he had said truly sunk in the flame went out and the man visibly deflated.  
"I never thought about John getting addicted," Sherlock mumbled to himself. _These stupid emotions are inhibiting my ability to think. _Sherlock mentally screamed in frustration.

"Come on dearie, lets go see how the good doctor is doing." Mrs Hudson said having quietly moved beside the two men after catching up with Lestrade.

As the three of them moved into the small room Mrs Hudson let out a small gasp covering her mouth and moved to John's side immediately attempting to mother the unconscious ex-soldier. "O you poor thing…" She muttered as she tucked in his blankets around him, brushed his fringe of hair out of his eyes and mopped the fresh sheen of sweat from his brow.

Sherlock collapsed back onto the couch in his overly dramatic fashion and preceded to steeple his fingers under his chin while staring off in to space. Lestrade simply shook his head at the young man whom he had grown quite fond of in an 'I occasionally want to murder you' sort of way over the course of their many years working together. _However, considering how long I've known Sherlock I have to admit that the man has grown exponentially as a human being since coming in contact with John Watson. _Lestrade thought to himself as he moved forward to look at John lying limply in his hospital bed. He hoped for the sake of both John and Sherlock that the man had a complete and uneventful recovery. With a sigh he moved to sit beside Sherlock on the couch pulling the manila file from his jacket and waiting patiently for the younger man to finish collecting his thoughts. Mrs. Hudson had begun fixing tea and unloading the biscuits and cakes she had brought along for the boys from the bag she had left over by the door.

With a collected exhale and his cold sociopathic mask back in place Sherlock turned to acknowledge Lestrades presence.

"I believe you had a case you wanted to discuss." He stated.

"Well it's a kidnapping turned into a murder but there is no sign of a break in and the only individual besides the parents who had that kind of access to the house was the one who was murdered. We found absolutely no murder weapon and I waited tell I received the coroners report to come see you." Lestrade explained attempting to garner Sherlock's curiosity right from the start. He handed the file over as he continued. "On top of needing to find the boy within the golden 24 hours there is the added complication of who he is, the only son to the Duke of Devonshire. There are quite a few higher-ups leaning heavily on the department as a result, so we would like to solve this as fast as possible." Lestrade stated running his fingers through his hair the stress from the day clearly starting to catch up with him. Sherlock was silent for about five minutes as he poured over every detail of the case file.

_The parents arrived back to their London flat in Chesham Palace early in the morning after a trip abroad to discover their nanny dead in the kitchen and their seven-year-old son missing. The front door had been locked when they arrived home. Nothing was stolen even though the house was full of valuable items. The boy however, was missing. His room appeared to have been ransacked clothing was scattered everywhere and drawers were left open. The bed however was still made, the bookshelf relatively orderly…although a book or two was missing, and the door to the room was found shut. The coroners report stated the cause of death as a stress induced myocardial infarction or heart attack. The kitchen was fairly mundane as well, there was one chair nocked over near the Nanny but it appeared she had grasped the chair while falling over. The pantry was open as well but nothing appeared to be missing or ransacked within that either. Near the elderly woman's feet was a broom laying hap hazardously across the floor. Although no pile of dirt was present. When he inspected closer he also noticed a loop of kit string tied to the broom handle but it appeared that what ever had been tied to it had been cut off. Ah, _he thought as everything came together in his mind. Then with some disappointment he thought. _This interesting but easy. _Sometimes he really didn't understand how the New Scotland Yard detectives could be so inept.

"Really Lestrade, this case is truly quite simple." Sherlock began already preparing his usual insults, however, as he looked back up and caught sight of John motionlessly lying in the bed he stopped. Suddenly finding that without the knowledge that his dramatic listing of deductions would be greeted with a 'that's brilliant' from John there seemed to be little joy in the act anymore. He couldn't see the point in demonstrating how useless Anderson and his theories had been or how incompetent Lestrade's team was seemed to have lost all its allure. Looking away and closing the file Sherlock continued in a much more subdued voice. "There was no kidnapping. You saw what you expected to see and ignored evidence to the contrary. What occurred was far from your ordinary crime scene but if you look at all of the evidence its the only fit. The boy attempting to ease his boredom decided to play a prank on his nanny. He set up a fairly classic prank of attaching a scary mask or image to a broom handle and left the broom so that when the pantry was opened the broom would fall forward. The nanny being quite elderly could not handle the scar and ended up suffering a heart attack. The boy just old enough to realize that something had gone terribly wrong with his prank decided to run away. If you look out the tree outside his room you will see scuff marks in the bark caused by a small individual climbing down the tree. Everywhere you are currently searching is based off the assumption that the boy was kidnapped. What you are actually looking for is a seven year old run away." Sherlock finished in a dry tone.

"Oh my how terrible," Mrs Hudson whispered as she handed Sherlock and Lestrade cups of tea.

"Sherlock this is only slightly better than if he had been kidnapped. I seriously doubt the seven-year-old son of an aristocratic family will do very well on the streets of London." Lestrade asked anxiously as he quickly typed out a text on his cell phone. "The parents probably won't even accept this as a theory until we have their son back either. I'm going to have to run interference so that the higher-ups don't realize we are pursuing this avenue. Do you have any guesses as to where the boy might have gone?" He added as an afterthought sighing in resignation at the increased headache.

"I do not _guess _Lestrade," Sherlock stated with disdain but none of his usual rancor he seemed to have spent most of his pent up frustration on the nurse and now he was back to just feeling numb again.

"Sherlock please, a little boys life is at risk," Lestraded countered.

"Hand me a pen," Sherlock sighed grabbing the manila file back from Lestrade. "Go to the foot bridge in Hyde Park by yourself at 9pm and drop this note, 30 pounds, and a picture of the boy into the musician there's collection bin. The homeless network should be able to find him. If they do they will drop the information at the doorstep to 221B, Mrs. Hudson if you could inform the detective if any such information arrives." Sherlock explained ripping the corner he had written on off of the manila folder when he was done.

"I am sorry that I haven't stayed long at all but you understand that with a situation like this we need to start searching as soon as possible Sherlock." Lestrade stated carefully placing the note in the pocket of his jacket. "Mrs. Hudson would you be alright with catching a cab home from the hospital?" Lestrade asked clearly wanting to get started on the new lead as soon as possible.

"Yes that's quite alright dearie you find that poor boy as soon as possible." Mrs Hudson said giving Lestrade a shooing motion out the door. Once Lestrade had left she took his place on the couch next to Sherlock. They sat together in companionable silence for a while.

"He'll be fine you know Sherlock," Mrs Hudson whispered into the silence in a comforting voice. "I've known you a long time dear and I can tell this is really upsetting you but John was a Soldier I'm sure he has dealt with far worst injuries than this." She continued, pre-emptively responding to Sherlock's sarcastic response before he could voice it. Sherlock deflated in response to her second statement realizing how much Mrs. Hudson had grown to be like a mother figure to him. He remembered when he had been at his worst addicted to cocaine and practically living on the streets. Mrs. Hudson had always granted him a warm meal and a hot drink with no judgment whenever he showed up at her door. Yes, he had helped her deal with her ex-husband but she had gone far above and beyond paying him back years ago. _Perhaps she could help me make sense of these…emotions. _Sherlock thought glancing over at his landlady who returned him a kind hearted smile.

"Mrs Hudson…" He began not quite sure how to continue. "Do you believe…do you think I am good for John?...His recovery that is. I mean this whole accident only occurred because he lives with me." Sherlock asked stumbling to find the right words and adding the last part with so much self-loathing.

"Sherlock! Don't you dare blame this on yourself? It was an accident that is all." Mrs. Hudson said with admonishment. Then in a much more gentle tone she added "…and of course you are good for John. You two are the best thing for each other." She said smiling at Sherlock fully understanding the subtext of his question. She was happy that the young genius finally seemed to be recognizing what everyone around him had seen for months. She just hoped that John would recover quickly and with no complications now so that the two could get on with their lives. A small smile tugged at the corner of Sherlock's mouth in response to her comment. The two continued to sit in silence for a few more minutes just watching the steady breathing of John Watson.

"Oh I have a surprise for you Sherlock. I wanted it to be a proper surprise so I left it at the nurse's desk before we came to the room. I'll just run and grab it." Mrs. Hudson said breaking the quite as she moved for the door. Sherlock fidgeted as he waited wishing he had looked more closely at Mrs. Hudson when she came in so that he would know what his surprise was. Fortunately for his sanity she returned in a few minutes. Sherlock's heart leapt with joy when he saw her carry his violin case into the room.

"Mrs. Hudson I could kiss you!" Sherlock exclaimed. He hadn't realized how much he needed his violin until she placed the item in his lap. Through out his life Sherlock had always used his music as an escape when situations became too much for him to process and this was definitely one of those situations.

"I think as long as you aren't too loud and play soothing songs the hospital staff wont mind too much. You know they always say that music and talking can help in these situations." She said smiling as Sherlock already had the violin out of the case and was attaching the chin rest.

"Well I'll let you play your music then," She stated realizing that he would be difficult to talk to in a moment. "You take care of him Sherlock and don't forget to take care of yourself," She said gesturing to the food she had brought him. "You just call me if you two need anything," she added as she walked out the door.

Sherlock smiled to himself again remembering her kind words and hoping that maybe, just maybe they would be true. He tightened his bowstring and began to play Tchaikovsky's 'Serenade Melancolique' he closed his eyes and allowed his entire body to move with the music.

He was so engrossed in the music he did not notice when John slowly opened his eyes.

John's eyes slowly tracked around the room until they locked onto the form of the violinist swaying slowly with the music at the foot of his bed. He didn't say anything for fear that the music would stop. He simply watched entranced with a dopy grin on his face for several minutes until his eyelids began to grow heavy. _I wonder why he is here? _John thought as his mind slowly faded back into sleep.

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**AN: Ok so again sorry for the lack of updates in a while my job is kinda crazy. I hope everyone enjoyed these two chapters and as always any constructive criticism is greatly appreciated. Thanks for all the follows you guys keep me motivated. ^_^ **


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